Checkmate
by Leea-Silver
Summary: It falls too Tseng to keep the young vice president safe. At first he scowls at the idea, but soon learns that Rufus is much more then just a normal child.


It's been a long time since I've written fan fiction. Last night I couldn't falls asleep, and just had this image in my mind, so I had to write it. Please tell me what you think, good or bad. Thanks 

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"Do you play?" The young vice president pulled out his chessboard and placed it on the table. His small hands cupped around the marble pieces as he lined them up, carefully spacing them apart. The Turk watched him, then slowly nodded, taking a seat across from him.

"I do, Rufus, but not often."

"I'll go easy on you." A faint smile crossed Tseng's lips as the words came out of his superior's mouth. It seemed so strange to hear something as such come from a child, but Tseng knew that Rufus was not in anyways a normal boy. A few days ago, when Tseng had walked into the Turk's lounge, tired from another mission, he would have thought so. A few days ago when he was presented with his current mission, he scowled at the idea. To watch over a child, he might as well quit his job and become a babysitter. Now, however, he knew why he was needed. It had been a little more then a week since the young boy's mother had passed, and each day the boy became paler. There were days when Tseng had to bribe him into eating.

"I'll take you to the Turk's practice arena." he had once said. The boy seemed satisfied with this at the time, but soon grew tried of it. That, however, wasn't the reason Tseng was there to watch him, and him and Rufus both knew it. Tseng had been told that he was to protect Rufus from terrorists, to keep him out of harms way. His mother's death had been passed off as such a casualty; everyone knew there was something more, papers and money being exchanged behind closed doors. No, Tseng wasn't here to protect him from such a thing, he was here to protect Rufus from himself, from suicide. The thought made the Turk shutter, that a boy of seven could not only comprehend such an idea, but also consider it. It wasn't normal for a boy of seven to know how to hold and fire a handgun flawlessly, it wasn't normal for a boy to know where all of the body's main arteries were, and how to cut them so delicately that nothing else would be harmed, but Rufus was not a normal boy.

"It's your turn, Tseng." Rufus said, his eyes were empty, in a few short moments he had captured almost all of Tseng's pieces. The Turk concentrated on the board for a few minutes, then slid his queen to a new space and captured one of Rufus's rooks. He seemed shocked, almost confused. Had he over looked such a weakness? The boy studied the board for a moment, trying to find a new stradidgy. Tseng wished Rufus would yell at him, cry, or even throw a tantrum, something that was normal for a boy to do, but he didn't. Slowly he moved his Queen in a new pattern.

"Tseng, can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly, Sir."

"No, it's Rufus. Sir is my father." He nodded.

"Rufus then."

"Why did you become a Turk?" The young boy took his focus off of the chessboard and looked up at him. Tseng hesitated for a moment, looking down at the handgun that rested at his belt. Rufus laughed, it made Tseng shiver. "Don't bother, Tseng. You don't need to hide it from me. I know what Turks are for. You were about to tell me that you were here for protection, no? That Turks are here only for bodyguards. Then why the handgun? I would ask. I know what my father makes you do, the countless lived you take. I want to know, Tseng, why? Why did you choose such a job?" Tseng was quiet, he could lie, but Rufus would know. Maybe he would just refuse to tell him, it wasn't his business, but it wasn't like Rufus was being nosy. Tseng had studied him for a moment, it wasn't a question about Tseng himself, but more so a question about the world. Why do people take lives so carelessly?

"I was born into a poor family." Tseng paused, looking at him; "I suppose I did it for power. As a child my family was treated horribly, we were given no more respect then rats. I trained hard so I could become more. When I was offered the job as a Turk I took it so I would finally be more then a street child. I started training for a Turk five years ago, when I was fifteen. I knew at the time that once you became a Turk, there was no turning back, but I didn't care." Rufus nodded.

"Yes, once a Turk, always a Turk. Turks can never quit, if one wants to leave, they're mysteriously killed in the line of duty. I wonder what really happens to them. Some make it out alive, I presume, but the others?"

"Assassinated." Tseng whispered, "By other Turks." Rufus looked down at his chess pieces.

"That is horrible, having to murder your own companions." Tseng swallowed.

"It is." The Turk paused. "It's not just killing a comrade, it's like killing a family member, killing a part of yourself. Every time I kill, I kill a part of myself as well. Rufus, promise me one thing."

"What, Tseng?"

"Don't ever become like your father." The young boy glared at him.

"Don't even compare me to him." He pulled down his sleeves so they almost covered his hands. That was something Tseng had noticed, something else that bothered him. Even in the heat of summer the youth always wore long sleeved shirts. Several times in the past week Tseng had considered smuggling the boy out and taking him to Kalm. The sunlight would do him good. The only sunlight you could get in Midgar was the occasional ray that broke though the smog clouds.

"Someday I'll be president." Rufus muttered under his breath. Tseng opened his mouth several times to speak, but nothing came out. "Then I'll fix all the problems my father has created. I know there will still be those who stick me with the same label my father had, but I don't care. I'll make things better; I'll do it when no one expects me to. I'll drop keys close to innocent prisoners so they can escape, I'll even aid groups who are working to heal the planet without letting anyone know. You may not believe me, but I will do it. I'm sick of this, Tseng, I'm sick of all this killing…" he paused, "All this death and misery."

"Rufus…" Tseng stumbled over the word. The youth looked up from the chessboard and half smiled.

"Oh and Tseng?"

"Yes?"

"Checkmate." The Turk half smiled, maybe there was still hope for this boy.

Done  what did you think? Please take the time to review, it means a lot to me. Also, if there are any spelling errors, please list them or send me an e-mail. I checked three times, and I think I got them all, but there still may be a few hiding. Thanks 


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